by Sosie Frost
God, was I wrong.
Nothing would ease that crackling, burning, ache inside me…except for him.
Jude shook his head when I lowered to my knees, but his protests silenced as I knelt before his cock. I couldn’t imagine how I looked. Breasts full and swollen, tummy showing with a baby bump. The water drenched me in heat, and yet I shivered before him.
I had to prove to him how I felt, even if I never had the courage to say it.
I held him tight, stroking the long shaft. Jude groaned as I kissed the very tip. If he was impressed by my bravery, it was nothing compared to the surge of confidence—or insanity—created by my desire. I parted my lips and welcomed him into my mouth.
There was no coming back from this. No retreating. No giggles and awkward glances after one friend decided to help another.
This was real.
And it was the least I could do for him, especially after he took me in, especially when his offered pleasure had ended a broken nose.
The salty heat of his cock nearly suffocated me.
I licked against the soft underside of his cock, teasing the head. Jude’s growl echoed against the shower, and he tangled his fingers in my hair. One stroke was all it took before he tensed and murmured a profanity. I sucked harder, quicker. He liked that. Jude slammed his hands against the wall and purred my name.
I was pinned, but still free. He leaned over me, his thick arms bracing the wall, offering more of his cock for my mouth. I’d take as much as he wanted.
I forgot to breathe. To think. To swallow. Every bob of my head focused on him and him alone.
As if I had any practice at this. As if I knew what I was doing.
But it wasn’t hard to learn what he preferred. I strained to hear his muffled grunts and studied the tensing of his legs. He liked when I took his cock deep, and so I perfected it. I learned it right then and there. I’d give this man exactly what he wanted.
Because he was everything I had ever wanted.
“Fuck…”
I loved Jude’s groan, but he pulled back before I could cause it once more. He grabbed my arms and hoisted me to my feet. His thick cock poked my tummy. We both liked that. I held him tight, parting my lips.
This wouldn’t end with a kiss.
His eyes brightened—the strike of steel against steel and a flash of warning sparks. His hand traced over my breasts, along my hips, to my slit.
Wet.
I was ready. I had been ready for so long. Just for him.
And now he knew it.
I don’t know if I turned first, or if he guided me to the wall. Within moments, I faced the tile and shuddered as he crept behind me. Our hips touched, and his fingers wove under my breasts. He held me still with a tease. His free hand traced a path to my waiting slit.
He flicked over my clit.
Once. Twice.
It was safer than using his tongue, but he tightened his grip just in case I lurched, twitched, or tried to get away.
I wasn’t going to escape.
Not when I finally got this close.
“Please…”
My words might have mewed in silence, but Jude hardened more as my hips rubbed against him. I held my breath.
The head of his cock glided across the softness of my slit. I hadn’t imagined he’d be so hot, so big, so overwhelming. I leaned against the wall and offered all of me.
And nothing in this world had ever felt as perfect as the instant our hips met.
Perfect height. Perfect angle. Perfect us.
I didn’t have a chance to think or question or fear any part of the mistake.
His cock thrust hard against my entrance. My heat welcomed him deep.
And I exposed every secret feeling I’d once hid.
It freed me.
I held my breath as he slid inside, fearing if I moved or breathed or even moaned, the moment would end and the most amazing sensations of my life would be lost to a fading memory.
But it didn’t end. It only got better.
I stretched over his bare length. It was the first time I had ever taken a man without any protection—even when I’d gotten pregnant. Every inch of him burned with a raw, throbbing heat, and the thick veins and smoothed skin delighted me with an amazing fullness.
Everything changed.
My fears—gone.
My hesitations—vanished.
My body—his.
I lived this moment in pure fantasy a hundred times, but the reality felt more like a dream. The pleasure rolled through me, blending with the pump of his hips and the heated water that rained over us. The steaming shower protected our shuddering bodies from the cold, the unknown, the isolation that was every minute we had ever lived apart from each other.
I gasped with every thrust, even the smallest of movements an absolute crush of excitement and danger and lust. The water soothed my fraying nerves, and Jude possessed the rest. He held me tight, and his cock overwhelmed me with fullness.
How had I ever gone so long without his touch?
His embrace possessed my body, pleasure, and soul. He thrust completely within me, his hand snaking beneath my hips to flick my clit once more. I groaned his name.
It was lucky that was all I revealed.
“Again.” He whispered. “Again.”
I’d never stop saying his name. Never stop trembling. Never stop drowning while standing, suffocating while moaning, and aching while he sliced through me with the most delirious pleasure.
This was what sex should have been. A loving, tender, passionate moment of trust. His gentle thrusts quickened, and I pushed against him as every slam teased me with a mounting peak.
I’d never been taken with such force, such determination before, such…
Comfort?
Security?
Desire?
The feelings I had for Jude were no mere infatuation, and I knew the disaster that this could bring. But even if I was left ruined, even if this mistake crushed me and rendered me heart-broken, this moment was ours. This connection, our bond, fueled every thrust and delighted us both with cresting desperation.
And he must have felt it too. He must have known.
Jude gripped my hips and pulled me closer. I clutched at the stone wall, my groans turning to whimpers as the slam of his cock filled me beyond fullness. The strike of the water punished and caressed. I panted a breath, and the first trembles of my core struck everything inside me.
Too fast. Too intense.
Jude’s movements rocked harder, but his growled words weren’t meant for me. He held me, took me, fucked me, and every movement connected us in shared passion. The overwhelming power of his cock crippled me from the inside, and I cried his name.
His hands slipped. One fell to my hip.
The other caressed my bump.
And I was lost.
The swell of his cock blended with my own orgasm. He pumped hard, and I clenched over him, falling against his protective chest as my mind blinked, my legs weakened, and my body broke with the forbidden and perfect pleasure.
Nothing prepared me for the blitz of heat that Jude drove within my core. The jet of his seed coated me from the inside. A moment of shocked pleasure stole my voice.
No one had ever come inside me before.
This was how my baby should have been made. Not in a rushed minute of nervous sex with a man who fumbled through to his own needs. I wished I had been in the arms of a man who’d cared for me, desired me, and delivered me to a moment of perfection that only he could create.
Jude shuddered, but he hadn’t pulled from me. I fought instinct and desire and every weepy feeling that demanded I explain and share and reveal everything to him.
But I couldn’t risk anything more. Not now. Not after crossing the line so far I tripped right into his arms.
I bit my lip to hide my pleased moan. His cock stayed hard, and my core punished me with emptiness. I edged away, attempting to escape from the shower.
I didn�
�t get far.
Jude’s words rasped with heavy desire. “Where are you going?”
He grabbed me. I gasped as my back struck the shower wall once more, but he crashed over me—holding me, touching me, drifting to my slit to feel the mess that he had made.
Or had I made this mess?
If it was even a mess.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”
He didn’t have to ask. It wasn’t this mistake that worried me.
The only thing I feared was losing him.
But first I’d have to escape his arms.
And I didn’t leave his bed all night.
13
Jude
I hadn’t slept. I passed out.
And I woke a very happy man.
A sweaty, sticky, shamefully erect man, but that was the way nature intended. At least if my head had finally cracked and I lost my mind, I could rely on primal instinct to satisfy the woman resting next to me in bed.
Naked.
Rory was naked in my bed.
And she dripped everything sexy and vulgar that either made me hard as a rock or dumb as a bag of them.
I had no idea how it happened. Why it happened.
But fuck, I was glad it did.
I never realized how lonely it was, waking up day after day with only Phillip to greet me. Of course, after today, after watching Rory sleep with her beautiful ebony skin contrasting the cream sheets, her lips parted in a gentle sigh, and her eyes peacefully shut, I’d never want another woman in my bed.
No one would ever look as lovely. No one would ever please me as much.
And that was a problem.
Under the sheets slept an amazing, gorgeous, unbelievable woman…and the blankets hid a bump that swelled a little more each day. It made her all the more irresistible now, but that desire was dangerous for both of us.
She had wanted me, and I lusted for her. Once she woke, I had no idea what she’d expect.
I hoped it was breakfast. In bed. Tangled in my sheets for another few hours.
The room was yet dark, kept in perpetual night with the aid of miracle blackout curtains. They spared my headaches and granted me extra time with Rory. Worth the investment.
My cock twitched. I nestled against the curve of her ass and brushed a finger over her bare shoulder.
What sort of magic or fairy godmother did I need to remember this feeling? A camera couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t capture the peace I found in her embrace.
Christ, I hated myself. Not because I had slept with a friend and spent the night buried within a vulnerable woman, but because I knew how fragile my memories were.
What would happen first? Would we regret this night…or would the feelings, desires, and pleasures fade from my mind?
Rory shifted, and her happy sigh teased me like music. She stretched, though one hand cautiously protected her little Genie.
What had I done to deserve this perfect woman in my bed?
And how the hell did I get her to stay?
I kissed her shoulder and grinned. “You realize what you’ve done right?”
She tensed, her eyes opening only for her eyebrows to furrow with worry. “I know. It’s bad.”
“I don’t know what came over us.”
“Jude—”
“But you can bet I’m gonna sit my ass in the shower every night, hoping you’ll join me again.”
Rory relaxed. “So I wasn’t imposing?”
“Consider the trespass forgiven.” I had to know. “Any reason you decided to make me the luckiest man in the world?”
She didn’t squirm. Didn’t shy away. Didn’t avert her gaze. “I wanted you.”
“Second trimester?”
“No…I just wanted a night with you.”
“Only one night?”
Rory bit her lip, but her eyes widened as she searched the darkened windows, hidden by the thick curtains.
“Oh no, what time is it?”
Hell, after a night like that, I’d be lucky if I remembered my name or what day it was. I reached for my phone, but Rory already slipped from the bed. She ripped the sheet away to cover herself, but I kept a tight ship and a neater bed. The blanket bounced back to the bed. Rory bounced with it.
I couldn’t laugh. Without the sheet, she bolted for the only covering she could find.
My curtains.
The burst of vibrant white-hot morning light seared through my skull.
Rory gasped. “Oh my God. It’s nine o’clock.”
And a Tuesday. My day off. Nine was nothing when I needed to heal. Or recover from the best night of sex I’d ever had. Tuesdays were sacrosanct. The league-wide day off. A time to rest. Recover.
Seduce the beautiful woman frantically searching for her clothes in my bathroom.
“We have to go in twenty minutes! Can I use your shower?”
Strange thing to ask someone who had just been fucked every way but sideways in it. “Sure…what are you doing?”
“The doctor’s appointment. Get ready!”
Doctor’s appointment? I rubbed my face. The brightness clawing through the windows slowly melted my brain.
I had no idea what she was talking about.
I squinted at my phone.
Nothing. Did I forget to enter a reminder? Damn it. And after a perfect night with Rory?
I didn’t finally sleep with her to piss her off the morning after. I’d fake it.
“Don’t worry.” I said. “I’m up.”
She shouted over the streaming water, but even it couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice. “You’re still taking me, right?”
It sounded like something I’d promise to do. “Of course.”
Besides, I wasn’t letting her get away. The last time I had that pussy, she’d broken my nose and hid for a week. This time, we had a great night, and she broke my mind.
I just needed coffee. My body wasn’t moving right after a night of endless passion, and my head usually took an hour or two to warm up. I rolled from the mattress and regretted it.
Damn. Thirty-three years old and I couldn’t handle all-nighters anymore. My knees ached. Back hurt. Head throbbed. Hands cramped.
Sleep repaired a body battered on the field. Caffeine masked the pain.
Phillip waited by his dish. He somehow managed a severely judgmental look, despite the multitude of cute spots that patterned over his eyes and muzzle.
“I know,” I said. He lifted his head, but his tail didn’t wag. I deserved that. “I know what you’re thinking.”
He grumbled.
“I haven’t had my mind blown like that since Cole Hawthorne dropped me on my head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a mistake.”
Phillip padded to his plastic kibble container—an eyesore, but it was visible and less likely for me to forget. He waited while I scooped a healthy cup into his bowl. No lamps were harmed in the making of this breakfast, but it hadn’t been on time. I tossed a decimated toilet paper roll into the garbage. Ripped right off the holder from the guest bathroom.
Great. Phillip had learned how to open doors while I slept.
“I should teach you something useful,” I said. “Like how to make coffee.”
He had no interest in such things.
I popped the grounds into the machine and poured in the water. Phillip whined, but I left him to go brush my teeth. Rory occupied my bathroom, but I had my travel bag packed for the away games. I rooted through and found my kit. Toothbrush. Razor. Aftershave.
Spare pain-killers. Icy Hot. Disposable ice packs.
I washed my face and blinked against the cold water. That helped wake me up. I smeared a line of toothpaste on my toothbrush and gnawed on the end while I took inventory of what ached this morning.
Shoulders, knees, back, calves, hands.
Everything but my cock. That was mighty pleased.
I lathered a dollop of Icy Hot onto my hands and smeared it into my lower back. Phillip yipped, sniffing my hand. I brushed him a
way, but I should have listened to the damn dog.
The patch of Icy Hot on my back didn’t get hot. My mouth sure as hell did.
The lotion skipped the icy and burned, like I woke up just to deep throat a ghost pepper. I spat it out, but the Icy Hot foamed in my mouth, fizzled in my throat, and choked me on bubbles of liquid fire. The paste dissolved into every corner of my mouth, went icy to dull the pain, then hot to destroy me from within. Nothing like a hell-spawn’s cinnamon jizz to brighten my smile.
Fuck. If I had that in my mouth…
I reached around. Yeah. Colgate on my ass.
At least part of me would be minty fresh for Rory.
My eyes watered. I flushed my mouth as best I could, but a quick check of the poison control center website was part of my morning routine now. If it wasn’t Icy Hot on my tooth brush, it was shaving cream or cortisone lotion or hair gel. My brain was misfiring too damn often. I’d toss a full bottle of soda in the garbage and return to the living room with the empty. I’d hand cashiers the rest of the money in my hand instead of taking the change. I’d forget when a play was run to the right or left.
I wasn’t hurt, and it wasn’t brain damage. I just had no focus. After the injury, even the simplest tasks required more concentration to do right. It took discipline. A set schedule. A solid routine and daily expectations.
Sleeping with one of my best friends was not a key to my recovery.
I showered off the toothpaste in the guest bath so Rory could have a couple moments of privacy.
And so she wouldn’t realize how fucked up my head had gotten.
The time apart was good. It gave me a chance to think. Away from her scent. Her warmth. The memory of her panted breaths, whispered words, and whimpered pleasure.
No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how great the night, I couldn’t take advantage of a friend in need. She came to me once. I wasn’t going to ask for another gift like last night.
Not unless she asked me first.
Rory rushed to get dressed and dried her hair. She made a pony tail and met me at the door, gnawing at her lip as I grabbed the keys.
“Thank you,” she said.
Any man, even those cleared of head injuries, would have been cautious with his response. “For what?”
